Judith of the Plains; A Novel By: Marie Manning

Judith of the Plains; A Novel

• Author : Marie Manning
• Publisher : Rarebooksclub.com
• ISBN-13 : 9781459093553

About Judith of the Plains; A Novel

The publisher of this book utilises modern printing technologies as well as photocopying processes for reprinting and preserving rare works of literature that are out-of-print or on the verge of becoming lost. This book is one such reprint.Purchase of this book includes free trial access to www.million-books.com where you can read more than a million books for free. This is an OCR edition with typos. Excerpt from book: Ill LEANDEIR AND HIS LADY THE only stage passenger besides Miss Car- michael was a fat lady, whose entire luggage seemed to consist of luncheon—pasteboard boxes of sandwiches, baskets of fruit, napkins of cake. These she began to dispose of, before the stage had fairly started, with an industry almost automatic, continuing faithful to her post as long as the supplies lasted. Then she dozed, sleeping the sleep of the just and those who keep their mouths open. From time to time the stage-driver invoked his team in cabalistic words, and each time the horses toiled forward with fresh energy; but progress became a mockery in that ocean of space, their driving seemed as futile as the sport of children who crack a whip and play at stage - coach with a couple of chairs; the mountains still mocked in the distance. A flat, unbroken sweep of country, a tangle of straggling sage-brush, a glimpse of foot-hills in the distance, was the outlook mile after mile. The day grew pitilessly hot. Clouds of alkaline dust swept aimlessly over the desert or whirled into spirals till lost in space. From horizon to horizon the sky was one cloudless span of blue that paled as itdipped earthward. Mary Carmichael dozed and wakened, but the prospect was always the same— the red stage crawling over the wilderness, making no evident progress, and always the sun, the sagebrush, and the silence. It was all so overwhelmingly different from the peaceful atmosphere of things at home. The mellow Virginia country, with its winding, red roads, wealth of woodland, and its grave old houses that were the more haughtily aloof for the poverty that gnawed at their vitals. This wilderness was so gaunt, so parched ; she closed her eyes and thought of a bit of landscape at home. A young forest of silver beeches growin...

Book Details